Kryptonite is Overrated
by YouMayKnowMeAsAngel
Summary: Laura had applied during a time when Karnstein couldn't keep a female assistant for more than a week. Rumor has it she sleeps with them, and after all the sexual remarks the woman has thrown her way, Laura has no problem believing that. Working for Karnstein is hell, but Laura's got a secret identity to maintain. Clark Kent ain't got nothing on her. - superhero au
1. Chapter 1

Silas City, despite its small population of 300,000, is widely known as the capital of the superhero industry. In order to support this industry, skyscrapers and official buildings can be found in great abundance. The residents are happy, when they're not being attacked by the current villain-of-the-week. While it's not exactly the safest place in the world to live, it's certainly the most aesthetically pleasing. The designs of the buildings, streets, and public parks are lovely, and bring much joy. There's an old rumor circulating that the city was designed by a future-seer, which would explain why all the buildings remain relatively intact after every superhuman battle. It is widely agreed that Silas is a wonderful place to live. Beautiful sights, gorgeous architecture, and a thriving populace.

All this, and Laura is staring down into a sewer.

"Would someone care to explain why this is necessary?" Laura asks, wincing at the sharp stench wafting up from the pothole she's about to enter.

"This is where the tracker signal leads. We need a sample, and this is the only—"

"Wasn't really looking for a logical answer," Laura interrupts J.P., eyeing the ladder warily.

"Relax, Hollis. It can't be that bad," LaFontaine says, always one to poke at something until they get the desired result.

Laura starts to lower herself down the ladder gingerly, hating how her nose stubbornly refuses to get used to the stench. "You can't smell what I'm smelling. And what have I said about using my name over dispatch?"

"Not to, but come on. Nobody's gonna hack into the comms with J.P. on the lookout."

"While I appreciate the compliment, discretion is key. We should avoid using our actual names if we wish to stay under the proverbial radar," J.P. says.

Laura smirks. "You hear that? We have to use our code names, _Tweedledum."_

"Whatever you say, _Red Bandit,"_ LaFontaine shoots back.

Laura makes a face. "Ugh. One day, I'm going to find that incompetent, unimaginative reporter who came up with that name and dangle him from the top of the Karnstein building."

"Um, no, you won't. We made a deal stating you would warn me when you turn villain."

 _"If_ I turn villain."

 _"When_ you turn villain. No self-respecting superhero runs around Silas with a name like Red Bandit."

"Why do you let them use the communicator?" Laura asks J.P. while LaFontaine cackles at their own humor.

"Because I'm a weak, weak man. I'll admit that," J.P. sighs.

"Aw, no one blames you, Tweedledee. I bribe him with Perry's—sorry, _Pear's_ —brownies."

"It's true. I would feel bad, but her brownies are just so—"

"Uh, guys? Can we get back to the matter at hand? Sewers? Imminent danger?" Laura peers into the darkness and takes a hesitant step forward. She knows her location, but finding the tracker and its carrier means she will have to be able to see where she's going, especially while walking next to a flowing river of sewage.

"Alright, concentrating on the sewers. Hey, keep on the lookout for turtle mutates wielding katanas and pizza," LaFontaine chirps.

"Turtle mutates? I thought we were tracking lizard mutates. And why would they be wielding pizza?"

` Laura smiles as she pulls out her flashlight. Despite being a tech genius, J.P. has practically zero knowledge of modern-day pop culture. Nobody questions it.

"I'll explain when you're older," LaFontaine mutters. "Just focus on locating the lizard men."

J.P. lets out an exasperated huff. "For the last time, they are _not_ lizard men! They're bipedal, reptilian humanoids—"

"Yes, I'm a biologist, I know the scientific term. They're still lizard men. You can't take that away from me."

Laura decidedly ignores their bickering and gets back to the task at hand. She shines her flashlight around the tunnel-like walls of the sewer, holding her nose with her other hand. There's a dry maintenance path next to the liquid sewage, and Laura is grateful for that. She slowly makes her way through the tunnel system, looking for any signs of giant lizard men.

Four months ago, Laura wouldn't be stuck in a sewer searching for lizard people. She would still be up above, dealing with simple bank robberies and house fires and purse snatchers. She had been happy with that. A bit bored, but satisfied with the work she was doing. Then, the big super villains of Silas collectively decided to up their game a little. The powered ones became more active and destructive, and the non-powered villains seemed to simultaneously start researching biological mutations in order to create giant scary monsters. Every superhero in the city knows that something big is coming, but they're all so busy battling their arch-nemeses to actually think about the problem. Laura's still a rookie in some aspects, so she has yet to score an arch-nemesis. (Not that she, you know, _wants_ one. It would just be nice to know that she's respected enough in the superhero community to have someone obsessed with destroying her.) In the meantime, Laura, LaFontaine, J.P., and Perry have all been working nonstop during their free time to try and solve smaller bits of the mystery. Laura does the grunt work, LaFontaine is the jolly mad scientist, J.P. is the tech genius, and Perry bakes brownies and frets over everyone. They make a good team.

They've decided to focus on the giant lizard pack problem that's been terrorizing the lower east side. Laura ran into one of the beasts yesterday, and managed to inject a tracking device into its skin. If she can get a blood sample for LaFontaine to analyze, that might bring them one step closer to figuring out who's behind all of this. Whomever it is, Laura suspects it's someone who's watched way too many superhero movies, if the "lizard men in the sewers" situation hints at anything.

Something catches Laura's eye, and she focuses her light on three long claw marks splitting the stone wall. They're about five feet off the ground, and they cut deep.

"Guys," Laura says into the comm, interrupting the still ongoing argument over scientific terminology. "You might want to look at this. Is the camera picking it up?"

There's a slight scuffling noise, and then J.P. says, "Yes, just let me zoom in…"

"Woah. Those look fresh. Hold still, I'm going to take some pictures," LaFontaine says, their excitement causing their voice to shake a bit.

Laura remains facing the gashes in the wall, though she wishes she could turn her head to make sure nothing was about to attack her from behind. The lizard men have sharp teeth and claws, not to mention jaws powerful enough to snap a human femur in half.

"Your heart rate is increasing by a significant amount. Is everything alright?" J.P. asks.

Laura sighs and tries to shake off her fear. "Yes, I'm just a bit nervous."

"Don't be. You have faced these things before."

"Yeah, but I don't know what's waiting for me. It could be one, or ten, or twenty." Laura turns her light towards the dark tunnel ahead, sure that LaFontaine has gotten enough pictures.

"No matter what, you are sufficiently prepared."

"Yeah, you've got your awesome powers and fighting skills, remember? Not to mention _we're_ on your side," LaFontain chimes in.

Laura smiles despite her nerves. "Right. How could I forget my awesome tech support?"

"Hey! Who're you calling tech support?!"

"I believe she's calling _us_ tech support."

"Thanks, J.P."

Laura laughs. "Goodness me, what on earth would your girlfriend say if she heard you use such a tone?"

"Excuse you, she's not my girlfriend."

"To whom is she referring?" J.P. asks.

"Pear. Pear and I are just friends."

"Oh. Have I been mistaken, then? I had only assumed that—"

"Seriously?! Why does everyone keep assuming things?!"

Laura goes back to ignoring her communicator when she comes across more gashes. These are located higher on the wall, though they seem older than the last ones. That could mean that the lizards have been here for a while, which could also mean that whoever created them might have planned this out.

Things are getting complicated. Laura groans. "Why am I doing this? Why am I down here?"

"Don't ask me. I'm just the tech support," LaFontaine grumbles, clearly pouting.

"I am sure she didn't mean to insult you."

"Oh really? Was I supposed to take it as a complim—"

"Guys. I think I found the nest," Laura says softly. She's shining her light into a side tunnel covered in claw marks and bones.

"Proceed with caution," LaFontaine orders, seamlessly shifting from joking to attack-mode.

Laura slowly steps forward, her senses on high alert. She passes what looks like a feeding area, and has to look away before she starts to gag. She hopes whatever that bloody mess used to be died quickly. The rest of the tunnel is coated in a shiny slime, perhaps mucus. She should probably get a sample of that too.

"Can you detect anything?" J.P. asks. Laura can hear him typing madly away at his keyboard, no doubt scanning everything the camera is picking up.

"I can't sense anything humanoid," Laura mutters, careful to keep her voice down.

"Can you sense anything living? Anything at all?"

Laura concentrates for a moment. "Yes, but they're too small to be lizard men. Rats, most likely. Am I near the tracker?"

"Yes. You're very close." J.P. hums under his breath, something he does when he's frustrated. "This does not make sense. The tracker's still active, they should be nearby. You should be able to detect them."

"She could be overstimulated down there. It's happened before," LaFontaine offers.

"No, it's not that. I really can't detect any large living organisms." Laura takes a few more steps forward, shining her light everywhere. She sighs. "Maybe the tracker's faulty—"

"There is nothing wrong with the tracker," J.P. snaps. LaFontaine snorts. "It's still active, which means it's attached to _something_ down there."

"Alright," Laura says, moving further into the tunnel. "But if I get ambushed by giant lizards, you're paying for my monument."

"I can see it now. _Here lies Red Bandit, whose remains were found floating in a river of poo."_

"I wasn't talking to you, Tweedledum."

"I'm just joking. Everyone knows you'll probably die at the hands of your boss."

Laura shudders. "Could we, like, _never_ mention that woman over dispatch? I like to pretend she doesn't exist when I'm not acting as her personal slave. Besides, speaking of the devil only provokes hell."

"Agreed," LaFontaine and J.P. both say at once, each having their own special reason to hate and fear Laura's boss.

The further Laura moves into the side tunnel, the creepier it gets. The walls start to narrow down towards each other so that she has to crouch to keep moving, and after awhile she can smell the unmistakable coppery tang of blood. It's strong enough that it overwhelms the stench of the sewer sludge. She can no longer see any slashes on the walls, but even with her flashlight it's hard to make out anything. There's a faint dripping noise up ahead, and its echo sounds rather ominous.

It's not until Laura's boot splashes into a large, thick, _warm_ puddle that she realizes something. She can't see anymore gashes on the walls because the walls are covered in blood.

"Holy Hogwarts," Laura breathes, shining her flashlight around her and trying not to hyperventilate. There's blood dripping down from the ceiling, oozing all over every surface, and pooling in puddles at her feet. Laura has never seen this much blood in one place before. "Guys," she says into the comm once she's caught her breath. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," J.P. says, his voice sounding rather shaky. He's not so good with blood. "That definitely looks…fresh."

"Do you know whose blood that is?" LaFontaine asks.

Laura closely examines the wall to her right. "I'm not sure. It could be the lizards', it could be one of their meals. I don't know."

"Well, it can't hurt to get a sample."

"Right," Laura says, and starts to take a vial out of her pocket. Something flashes in the corner of her eye, and she whirls around, expecting an attack. Instead, she finds a glowing green light. Realizing what it is, she moves forward. "Tweedledee?"

"….Hey, boy genius. She's talking to you."

"What? Oh. Right. Yes?"

"Your tracker. Am I approaching it?"

"Um, yes. Yes, you are. You're very close to it, actually."

When she reaches the tracker, Laura realizes that it's been taped to the wall, next to a blood splattered piece of paper. She carefully peels the tracker off the wall and examines it. It doesn't look damaged. She moves to inspect the paper, only to discover that it's a note written in slanted cursive.

 _Dear Red Bandit,_

 _Cleaned up your mess for you. You're welcome._

 _—The Countess_

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" Laura exclaims, crumpling the paper up in her fist. "How did she get here before me?!"

"Wait, what? What was that? Who's…The Countess?" J.P. asks. LaFontaine snorts, and then tries to cover it up with a cough.

Laura scowls, looking wildly around the tunnel for more notes. "She's only the most annoying, presumptuous, self-entitled, ridiculous, overly flirtatious superhero in existence!" Laura kicks at a stray bone lying next to her foot. "Whenever I try to investigate something big, she always, _always,_ manages to get there first and leave me stupid little ' _you're welcome'_ notes, as if I'm supposed to be thankful that she—"

"She's the one that wears a corset," LaFontaine says in a bored tone, having heard this rant before.

"Oh! With all the leather? She's been leaving the notes?" J.P. sounds somewhat impressed.

"Yup."

Laura mutters darkly under her breath as she gathers the blood samples. "The Countess. What kind of a name is that, anyways? A stupid name, that's what. Leave it to her to have a name that sounds like something a fifteen-year-old poet enthusiast made up."

LaFontaine lets out a low whistle. "Wow. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're harboring a crush for her."

Laura splutters despite herself, nearly dropping the vial of lizard blood. "What? A crush?! I don't—are you serious?!"

"I thought she had a crush on that Summer Society girl," J.P. says, much to Laura's horror.

"Oh yeah. The redhead, right? What was her name?"

"I don't think they have names. There's too many of them. The Society's a large organization. I think it might even stretch internationally."

"Are you two done?" Laura sighs.

"That depends," LaFontaine hums thoughtfully. "Do you want to leave a note for her? Maybe start a pen pal exchange?"

"If you don't shut up right now, so help me, I will tell Pear what really happened to her pet gerbil."

A long pause.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Another long pause.

"Fine. You win. No more talking about your squishy crushes."

Laura sighs. "Thank you."

"The gerbil incident wasn't even my fault."

"Yes, it was," Laura and J.P. both say at once.

"Ok, so maybe it was a _little_ bit my fault, but if little miss Cleans-A-Lot hadn't put the kerosine next to the cage, I wouldn't have been inspired to—" LaFontain's voice suddenly cuts off.

"I turned off their mic," J.P. deadpans.

Laura starts to make her way out of the tunnel, careful not to step in anymore blood puddles. "Wait, are they not at your place?"

"No, they're at Miss. Perry— _Pear's_ —apartment. Something about helping with a giant birthday party cupcake delivery?"

Laura frowns. "Cupcake delivery?" That doesn't sound right. Perry had been stressing over that birthday party for weeks. She shouldn't be delivering anything until…

A horrible thought crosses Laura's mind. "J.P.?" she exclaims, forgetting to use his codename. "What day of the week is it?!"

"Uh, I believe it is a Thursday?"

"Oh my god!" Laura's sprinting down the tunnel before she realizes her legs are moving. She starts to go through a mental checklist, trying to calculate how much time she has left before—

"What's happening?! Is something wrong?!" J.P. shouts in her ear.

"It's _Thursday!"_ Laura groans with as much conviction as she can manage. She's sprinting and praying she doesn't fall into the river of sewage, though that might be a more friendly fate than what she will experience if she's late.

"Yes, it is a Thursday! What is so important about Thursday?"

Laura has reached the ladder now. As she climbs it, she imagines the Kill Bill siren blaring through the sewer tunnels. "Thursday's are important because she schedules _meetings_ on Thursdays, which means she wants a large black coffee and some pretentious French pastry from that stupid little place behind the taxi depot—"

"Ooh, _Marie's?_ That shop is quite expensive."

"I _know!"_ Somehow, Laura has made it out of sewers and into the open. There's minimal traffic, and the few people out and about hardly glance at her as she rushes by. The one good thing about Silas' jaded citizens is their complete disregard of super-powered weirdoes running through the streets. She sprints towards the wall of a laundromat and yanks a small device off her utility belt. "I'm going to try the grappling hook!"

J.P. squeaks into the mic. "You have that with you?! It failed almost all of its tests in the lab!"

"You said almost! Almost is good!"

"Almost is the opposite of good! It is not good! I refuse to be responsible for your death-by-grappling hook!"

"You can't convince me it's worse than death-by-Karnstein!" Laura shouts. She aims the device and fires over J.P.'s protests. It hooks to a corner of the laundromat roof and sticks. With a quick pull on the trigger, it yanks her up onto to the roof. Perhaps the yanking is a bit quicker than Laura had expected, and perhaps her shoulder feels funny now, but it's fine because she's on the roof. It's good. Everything's good. She's yelping in pain as she locks her shoulder back into its socket. It's all GOOD _._

J.P.'s voice has reached a dangerously high pitch. "I heard that popping noise! You have injured yourself—"

Laura turns off her comm before he can scold her about the dangers of failing to test her equipment. She has a breakfast delivery to…deliver.

:

:

:

"Coffee for Karnstein! _Move it!"_

As per usual, the K-word works its magic, and men and women scatter as Laura barrels her way towards the elevator. She's running as fast as she can in her sensible work shoes, but she can see the metal doors closing in front of the panicked faces of its occupants.

"No!" she shouts when they close just before she reaches it. There's only one other elevator in the whole building, and Laura's been banned from using it since the St. Patrick's Day incident last year. The stairs are her only option.

Every step she takes is followed by a curse directed at the superhero gods for not giving her super stamina. She's already winded from the dash to the pastry shop and then to the office, not to mention her port-a-potty outfit change from hero to business casual.

"Oh sure, Clark Kent gets the luxury of a friggin' phone booth while I get to change next to a big ol' pot of poop," she grumbles to herself between gasps for air, having finally reached the top floor. She pushes against the door with her shoulder—her _bad_ shoulder—but it won't budge because of course it won't. Laura keeps pushing and pushing because super strength is yet another power she does not have. Each push becomes more and more personal as she beings to insult the integrity of this door, and then of all doors in general, and the door must take offense to this because it suddenly opens and Laura tumbles forward with a great shout.

Thankfully, someone catches her before she hits the floor. Her savior's one of the IT goons, the quiet girl with the glasses.

"Thanks, Chel!" Laura chirps as she releases herself from the surprisingly strong pair of arms enveloping her.

The girl blinks at her from behind big glasses, looking a bit struck. "Um, actually, it's Mel."

"Yeah, thanks, gotta go!" Laura calls over her shoulder, already power walking through the workspace. The top floor is the usual beehive of activity, but everyone automatically speeds up once they spy her. When Laura moves fast, it could only mean one thing.

 _"She's entered the building!"_ One of the interns hisses at her.

Mass panic. People rush to their desks, papers go flying, and everyone moves the _fuck_ out of Laura's way because she is running at a full sprint now. The office is at the far back of the room. She has about two minutes.

Laura dives between the two desks which sit outside the office. One's for her, the other's for Kirsch. The She Devil likes to keep her minions close. Kirsch stands up from his seat when he sees her coming, his eyes wide with fear. He starts to say something, but Laura beats him to it.

"I know I'm late prepare _yourselfshe'scoming!"_

Kirsch lets out a sound that may or may not be a whimper but Laura is crashing through the door of the office and doesn't have time to think about it. She rushes across the plush carpeting to the minibar, and yanks open the cabinets above to get to the plates. Laura then remembers that she is short, so she grabs a chair to stand on

Her senses give a little jolt. Karnstein's elevator has arrived.

Laura leaps off the chair and scrambles her way to the giant desk, which looks more like a black marble slab than an actual work space. She places the plate in the exact same spot she always does, and dumps the pastry out of its bag. After that, she makes a desperate break for the door. Kirsch proves to be the best person ever when he opens it for her, and Laura has enough time to swipe her hair out of her face and click her heels together before Carmilla Karnstein is sashaying towards her.

Despite the utter loathing and contempt Laura feels towards this woman, she can't help but admire the control she has over every room she enters. Her walk is more like a glide as she makes her way through the desks. Those brave enough to wish her a good morning do so in awed murmurs, their eyes wide. The rest simply lower their heads.

She's wearing a skin-tight black dress today, and if Laura knew anything about fashion she would be able to appreciate it's subtle refinement. Even so, she can tell that it has a very pleasing affect. The leather streaking up the sides of her thighs brings one's attention to her hips, and though her neckline does not show much cleavage, it's certainly enough to draw the eye. A gold necklace rests on her collarbone, a single emerald stone glinting in the light. Sunglasses cover the top half of her face, and her black hair is tousled in such a way that it gives off an effortless sense of dishevelment.

Laura's smile turns rather strained the closer she gets.

"Good morning, Ms. Karnstein," both her and Kirsch say in practiced unison.

As usual, Karnstein pretends not to hear. She takes Laura's offered coffee cup, and snaps her fingers at Kirsch while she takes a long pull from it.

"Today you have seven meetings scheduled, four of which concern Captain Dynamite," Kirsch responds immediately. "Most of the problems seem to be about—"

Ms. Karnstein holds up a pale hand, and Kirsch shuts his mouth immediately. She turns her head towards Laura, who knows what's coming. She braces herself.

"What, pray tell, is this?" Karnstein asks, her voice low and gravely.

"Your usual drink order, Ms. Karnstein."

"It's lukewarm."

Laura's blood runs cold. Here we go again. "Is it?"

With a slow, fluid movement, Karnstein takes off her glasses and fixes Laura with an unimpressed stare. "Are you asking me whether or not my coffee is lukewarm, after I just informed you of the fact?"

Laura holds the gaze without flinching. "Of course not, Ms. Karnstein. If you'd like, I could warm it up by rubbing my hands together?" She offers sarcastically.

The entire floor falls silent. Laura suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

Karnstein stares at her for a moment longer, then lets a long breath out through her nose. She puts her sunglasses back on and opens the door to her private office. "You would be wise to remind yourself that your looks will only get you so far with me, cupcake," she mutters, disinterest dripping from every word.

Laura can feel her cheeks flush in anger, but she keeps the smile on her face until the door closes. Then she allows herself to aim a silent scream at the ceiling.

Kirsch winces in sympathy. "What took you so long?" He asks.

Laura stomps her way over to her desk, and sits with a loud huff. "I was dealing with a plumbing issue."

"Oh, is that why you smell like that?"

If that had come from anyone else, Laura would throw her stapler at them. But Kirsch is her only ally in this place, and if he ever says something mean it's usually unwittingly. The guy's hopelessly honest, to the point of naivety.

Now that the adrenaline has run its course, Laura can feel a dull ache in her shoulder. The pain isn't distracting, but there's a small twinge whenever she moves it too much. She rolls it several times and winces, wishing for the billionth time that she could use her powers on herself.

"Something wrong?"

Laura jumps with a small yelp, banging her knees on the underside of her desk. Danny Lawrence is standing to her right, somehow having snuck past Laura's senses. She's dressed smartly in a lime green blazer and striped shirt, her bright red hair pulled up into a bun.

Laura just smiles at her until she realizes she's been asked a question. "What? Oh, right, yes. I'm fine. I just…slept on my shoulder weird."

Danny frowns. "You sure? You haven't been overworking yourself again, have you?"

"No! Of course not! I hardly work at all," Laura jokes. As if on cue, a man marches up to her desk and plops down a stack of papers.

"Signatures," he grunts before moving away.

Laura lets out a small sigh. Getting Karnstein to sign anything is always an adventure in itself.

Danny seems to agree with her. She makes a face while she studies the stack of papers. "What are those even for?"

Laura shrugs and gets up from her desk. She needs to find the good pens from storage. She should have her own, but they keep mysteriously disappearing. "They're just the usual drivel," she explains. "Kirsch knows more about the paperwork than I do."

"Really?" Danny asks, shooting an incredulous look over at Krisch's desk. He's currently trying to balance a coffee mug on his nose.

Laura smiles in understanding. "You'd be surprised." She gestures for Danny to follow her as she makes her way to the storage closet at the other end of the room. "So, Danny, what can I do ya' for?" Danny raises an eyebrow, and Laura blushes. "Um, not do you as in _do you,_ but as in a favor. A nonsexual favor." _Oh my god,_ she mouths to herself as she turns away.

Thankfully, Danny seems to find her pathetic attempts at conversation amusing. "Priscilla wants to check on the summer cover, make sure it's going in the right direction," she says with a small smile.

"Priscilla wants to check on a cover? That can't be good."

"That's why she sent me. Apparently, I'm the most pleasant to deal with."

"That you are," Laura agrees, and then blushes again. God, what is it with her and redheads? First that Summer Society girl and now Danny, she better get a hold of herself before she starts getting flustered around Perry and LaF.

But Danny just smiles brightly at her. "That's high praise, coming from Ms. Assistant to the Boss."

Laura snorts and dodges a woman rushing to the printer. "Please. Anyone seems pleasant after dealing with _her_ all day long."

Danny laughs. "Right. God, it's hard to remember you've only been working here a year."

Laura can only agree. When she first applied to _Capes and Masks,_ it had been a joke. LaF had suggested she might as well work for the magazine that specializes in superhero fashion if she insisted on creating her own costumes. Laura had done it out of spite. She never imagined she would actually be called in for an interview.

While Karnstein is the boss of the magazine and oversees everything, she's not the owner. Her mother, a powerful woman whom Laura has never actually seen, built the name from the ground up many years ago. Laura had applied during a time when Karnstein couldn't keep a female assistant for more than a week. Rumor has it she sleeps with them, and after all the sexual remarks the woman has thrown her way, Laura has no problem believing that. Laura wasn't exactly looking for an assistant gig at the time, but it paid good, and she was promised a golden recommendation when she finally gets a foot in the door of the journalism business. Plus, it provides her with a good source of superhero information. She knows almost all the dirt on the heroes sponsored by _Capes and Masks,_ and you never know when intel like that will come in handy.

So, Laura grits her teeth and puts up with the worst of the worst. On her first day of work, Karnstein had spent a good twenty minutes making snide comments about her "stifling optimism," then handed her a stack of papers the size of Laura's torso to be filed by noon. Laura knew that the crazy woman was just trying to get rid of her, but spite is a wonderful motivator. She finished the task by ten, and delivered herself to Karnstein's desk with a pleasant smile.

"Anything else you need, Ms. Karnstein?" Cue self-satisfied smile.

Karnstein looked up at her from underneath her dark bangs, and for one half second, a flicker of surprise flashed over her face. Then her expression quickly turned to stone, and she ordered Laura away to learn her way around the building. Laura left feeling as though she'd won the first battle.

Of course, things only got worse from there. Karnstein seems to have made a personal goal to inconvenience Laura in every possible way. Anything she needs _right now_ will be found on the highest shelf, messages to the bottom floors need to be delivered in person, and specific days call for specific brands of the most expensive pastries and coffee Silas has to offer. (The one time Laura brought Starbucks, she barely escaped the confrontation with her life.)

Despite the constant bullshit, Laura is nothing but resilient. She dishes out as much as Karnstein does. Their sarcastic bickering is always at the forefront of office gossip, and has inspired many a rumor over the past year. According to Janice from human resources, Laura and Karnstein are having wild hate sex after hours. Jimmy from media networking disagrees; Laura and Karnstein have quickies throughout the day in order to compensate for the fights. Kirsch keeps Laura informed on all the news involving her rampant sex life. It makes for good small talk when the work day is dragging along.

If it wasn't for Kirsch and Danny, Laura wouldn't have survived this past year at the magazine. Danny works for Priscilla Rodriguez, another powerful woman in the superhero fashion industry. Her company, _Cutthroat,_ specializes in weaponizing outfits. Laura and LaF drool over her designs, but only the sponsored heroes get the gear. The heroes with money. Laura is significantly lacking in that department.

Danny is the go-between with Karnstein and Rodriguez. They both can't stand each other, but Danny is a diplomatic person who is willing to put up with _so much crap._ Though Karnstein seems to hate her for unknown reasons, she always listens to Danny's remarks and instructions.

"So, what are Priscilla's concerns about the summer cover?" Laura asks. She yanks on the door handle of the supply closet, but it doesn't budge. She yanks a few more times before Danny gently moves her hand out of the way and opens it with an easy pull. Laura grumbles out a thanks.

"Well, we are featuring blade wielding heroes, and she's not sure the mountain theme compliments the designs."

Laura nods and looks around for that little bucket of pens she left in here last week. "Yeah, I can see why she might think that."

Danny notices the hesitation. "But…?" She invites.

Laura offers her a sheepish smile over her shoulder. _"Buuuuut_ it's Karnstein's cover, and she believes mountain ranges are the perfect fit. Brings out the coldness of the blade, or something."

Danny lets out a huff and leans against the doorframe, her long arms crossing over her chest. "Rodriguez feels as though blades should be personal, up close and intimately dangerous. Not paired with wide open spaces and cold weather."

Laura considers her options as she grabs a handful of pens and hurries out of the supply closet. "Ok, here's the thing," she tells Danny while power-walking back towards her desk. "Karnstein is really set on those mountain scenes, and she has the backing of all the other designers. Plus, today is a busy day for her, meeting-wise." She glances over at Danny, who already looks resigned to giving her boss a poor report. Laura hesitates a moment longer, then sighs. "What the hell, I'll get you an audience with her majesty."

Danny's face brightens instantly. "Really? Could you? I don't want you to get into trouble—"

"Danny, it's my job. You got a problem, I can fix it." Laura raises her head high, proud of herself for proving she's not a useless blushing idiot. Of course, that's exactly when someone walks away from their desk and straight into her path, causing her to backpedal and trip over her own feet. Now, Laura isn't completely clumsy. But, in the name of keeping her identity a secret, she has to act a little more uncoordinated than usual. So, down she goes, and Danny is so surprised that she fails to catch her.

Laura lays sprawled out on the floor. She sends a thank you to her past self for deciding to wear tights under her skirt today. She blinks her eyes open to find Danny leaning over her. "Hello."

"Hello yourself," Danny says, amused despite her obvious concern. "You really should look where you're going. You're gonna get hurt one of these days."

Kirsch's face appears next to Danny's. "Laura! Are you okay?!"

Laura struggles to her feet, waving off a few helpful offers from the others. Danny still manages to put an arm around her shoulders to make sure she's steady. Laura refuses to allow her heart to stutter at that. "I'm fine, seriously, it's good. This happens all the time."

It really does. Laura's small, and most people don't see her until after they've knocked her down. The rest of the top floor isn't paying much attention to them, and everyone moves and works around them without so much as a sideways glance. Danny leads Laura back to her desk despite her protests. She gives Laura a wary look as she sits down.

"You sure you're alright? That was a pretty hard fall."

Laura shoves the pens into her empty coffee mug with a little more force than necessary, embarrassed at having fallen in front of Danny. Again. If J.P. wasn't so convinced that someone would recognize her if she showed the slightest hint of functional coordination, she wouldn't have to deal with situations like this.

"Danny, honestly, I'm fine."

"Really? How's your shoulder? I noticed you rolling it earlier."

"Did you? I suppose you've been here for quite some time, Ms. Lawrence."

Laura's head snaps up in surprise. Karnstein is standing in front of Laura's desk, her sunglasses off and her dark eyes focussed on Danny. This is the second time someone has snuck past Laura's senses today. She should check in with LaF later to make sure nothing's wrong.

Danny shows no sign of surprise, and merely offers Karnstein a dry smile. "I haven't been here long, Ms. Karnstein."

Karnstein hums, looking her up and down. "Still, my assistants should have informed me of your presence."

Laura rolls her eyes. Karnstein notices, but doesn't say anything.

Danny's smile remains fixed on her face. "Your assistants have names, you know."

Karnstein cocks her head to one side. "I'm aware of that, just as I am aware you are taking up my time by informing me of this. What is it that you want?"

"I'm here on Ms. Rodriquez's behalf."

"Obviously," Karnstein drawls.

Laura finally speaks up. "Ms. Lawrence wishes to speak with you about the theme for the summer cover. Mrs. Rodriguez has some concerns."

Karnstein sighs. "Of course she does." She turns to Kirsch. "You, Calvin Klein reject, what's my schedule look like?"

Kirsch frantically pulls something up on his tablet. "Uh, you have fifteen minutes available after your 12:30."

"Perfect." Karnstein turns and gives Danny a bored look. "I'll see you then. You don't mind waiting?"

Danny shakes her head. "No, of course not."

Ok, Laura _really_ doesn't like the way they're smiling at each other. She's pretty sure someone's about to go for someone else's jugular, so she stands up and snaps her fingers at one of the interns. "You! Please direct Ms. Lawrence to a more comfortable waiting area. I believe Trish brought muffins in this morning, treat her to those."

The intern blinks at her with wide, fearful eyes. He looks at Karnstein and Danny, visibly swallows, and mutters, "Right this way, Ms. Lawrence."

Danny holds eye contact with Karnstein for a moment longer before bowing her head. "Ms. Karnstein." She turns towards Laura and offers her a softer smile. "Laura. Would you mind meeting me for coffee after work? We never have the chance to talk these days."

And all of a sudden Laura is a stammering mess. "I-I would love—"

"Ms. Holleck already has commitments later today, but I'm sure the two of you would be able to work something out after hours, hmm?" Karnstein interrupts swiftly. She raises an eyebrow, probably trying to goad Danny into talking back.

Danny, being the utter professional she always is, merely nods her head. She sends Laura once last friendly glance before she follows the intern to the elevators. Laura nervously bites her lip as she watches her go. God, she made an entire _fool_ of herself through that whole experience, and LaF is going to give her so much shit about it when she gets home—

"Ms. Horan, are you injured?"

The question catches Laura off guard. She starts and stares at Karnstein blankly. "Uh, what?"

Karnstein narrows her eyes. "The wannabe amazon warrior mentioned your shoulder. Are. You. _Injured?"_

"Erm, no."

"Then I can see no reasonable excuse for why you are sitting there, drooling after Ms. Lawrence. As uneventful as it may be, I would advise for you to keep your romantic life out of this building." The corners of her lips tilt upwards. "Am I making myself clear?"

Laura takes a deep breath and mentally counts all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to stab Karnstein in the face with the pens she just fetched from the supply closet. "Crystal," she says through gritted teeth.

Blood red lips curl into a satisfied smile. "Thank you, Ms. Hollenbeck." She pivots on her heels and closes the door to her private office behind her.

"It's _Hollis!"_ Laura snaps, though she knows it's no use. Karnstein hasn't gotten her name right since her first day. It's definitely on purpose.

Laura plops down in her chair and rubs at her temples. Kirsch gives her a sympathetic look. "You alright?"

Laura practically snarls in response. "Who is she to have any say in my love life? Especially with all those rumors of her sleeping with me, and her past assistants." She points a finger at Kirsch. _"You._ You were working here long before I started, are the rumors true?"

Kirsch's mouth opens and closes several times before answering her. "The rumors?"

"Yes. The one's about her other assistants."

It takes Kirsch exactly three seconds to realize what she's talking about. He leans forward to say something, then seems to think better of saying it out loud and types something on his tablet. Laura's phone buzzes, and she opens a text message which reads:

 _rumors are true, she likes assistants_

"So she's a hypocrite!" Laura crows. "I ought to call her out on it."

"No, please don't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because whenever you're the one who starts the fight, she takes it out on me."

Laura pauses. "And what about when she's the one who starts the fight?"

Kirsch winces apologetically. "Things are…actually pretty good when that happens."

"Of course. Of friggin' course."

:

:

:

It's a pretty busy day for Laura. She's constantly moving throughout the building as she delivers messages, answers phone calls, schedules meetings, and comforts anyone having a panic attack after said meetings. When quitting time rolls around she's tired and achey, and _so_ not looking forward to the long night of sewer lizard research she will inevitably be a part of. J.P. wants her to go on another patrol tonight.

She's heading towards the elevator with Kirsch when the door to Karnstein's office creaks open. "A moment," a voice calls from within.

Laura and Kirsch share a second of solidarity by wincing at each other. Then the hands go flying and the rock paper scissors gods have once again declared Laura the loser. Kirsch pumps his fist in the air and jogs towards the elevator, shooting her a triumphant smile over his shoulder. Laura sticks out her tongue.

"I'm waiting, for some reason. Why am I waiting?"

"Coming, Ms. Karnstein," Laura grumbles. She trudges into Karnstein's office, feeling as though she's entering a dragon's lair.

She might as well be. The lighting's very dim, and the decor's incredibly unsettling. The few paintings which hang on the walls depict images of bloody battles with mythical creatures. The interns have often debated whether or not the skull penholder on Karnstein's desk is an actual skull.

It is in front of this skull that Laura stands, her hands clasped in front of her and her posture straight. Karnstein's eyes flick up from the paper she's reading.

Laura waits.

Karnstein slowly puts down her paper, leans back in her chair, and kicks her bare feet up onto her desk. "You lied to me earlier," she says.

"What? I, um, I don't…" Laura stammers. She hadn't expected this.

Karnstein lets out a soft sigh, her eyes traveling around the room. "Your shoulder. It's injured. You lied to me."

"My shoulder? Oh, no, my shoulder's fine—"

"Lies."

Laura huffs. The corner of Karnstein's mouth twitches.

"If it's _really_ that important to you, ma'am, then yes. I injured my shoulder while fetching your coffee this morning," Laura says, finishing through gritted teeth.

She's not lying. Technically. The grappling hook fiasco had been a part of the coffee run. The door shove probably hadn't helped things, but whatever. It doesn't hurt as much as it did this morning.

Karnstein's dark eyes focus on Laura's shoulder, then slowly travel to her face. "You've been injured a lot lately," she says.

Laura frowns. She senses a trap. "Um, really?"

"Oh yes. Burns, cuts, bruises, the occasional bite mark—"

"My neighbor's dog is teething!" Laura cuts in desperately.

"Not to mention the rather unique stench you've been sporting all of today."

"Cooking fiasco."

"You made an intern faint."

"All of them do that."

Karnstein stares at her. Laura holds her ground and tries to ignore her rising nerves.

"Ms. Holliday, I'm running a magazine. A magazine I do not wish to run, but nevertheless, I have been placed in charge. I meet enough clumsy idiots on a day-to-day basis, so I do not wish to deal with you and your countless injuries." She raises an eyebrow. "Unless, of course, they are of a more passionate nature…?

It takes Laura's brain a moment to catch up. When it does, her entire body immediately cringes. "Oh no. No, _no,_ I don't do any of that sort of…stuff. I mean, I would never partake in such—" Karnstein's other eyebrow raises, and Laura frantically switches tracks. "Not that there's anything _wrong_ with that! As long as all parties are, you know, consenting and understanding their limits, they can…" Laura attempts to pantomime something with her hands, then realizes what she's doing and pins her arms to her sides. She swallows and ends with a jerky nod. "They can do whatever they want. Yes."

It's not too much of a surprise that Karnstein is already laughing. "Sweetheart, I was only teasing!" She snorts and shakes her head. "God knows you've barely moved past missionary."

Uh, _excuse_ me? "Well, not all of us like to bend assistants over desks," Laura snaps without thinking. She freezes a second later, wondering if she's stepped to far.

But Karnstein merely gives her a knowing smirk. "Yes, I suppose that's true." Her expression looks much too smug.

Laura decides she's not up for playing whatever game this is, and slumps into a more relaxed position. "This isn't why you called me in, right?" She sighs.

Karnstein hums a bit and swings her feet off her desk. "Yes. As fun as it is to talk about your limited sexual experience, there's work to be done."

Laura bites her tongue and reminds herself that this job is important. Backhanding the boss across her perfect cheekbones would be bad.

"Designs from the creative team meeting," Karnstein says, sliding a blue binder across the desk towards Laura. "I don't want anyone looking at them until next Tuesday."

Laura picks up the binder. It looks unimportant. "Any reason why you waited until after hours to tell me this?"

Karnstein gives her a pitying smile. "Oh, you poor thing. You actually think that I'm going to explain my actions to you." She lets out a little laugh and bends to pick up her heels.

Laura breathes in through her nose and looks up at the ceiling. _Backhanding the boss would be bad. Backhanding the boss would be bad._

"Besides," Karnstein continues, standing to move away from her desk. "I rather enjoy giving you busy work. Keeps you out of trouble."

"From my understanding, I don't get into much trouble." Laura sneers when Karnstein turns to look at her. "You know, with my _limited sexual experience?"_

Karnstein blinks, then slowly looks her up and down. "Either that, or you're just dull." She brushes past Laura on her way out of her office.

Laura follows a moment later, practically chanting under her breath. _Backhanding the boss would be bad. Backhanding the boss would be satisfactory, but bad._

She stows the small binder in a drawer at her desk, not finding the resolve to care whether or not someone looks at it before Tuesday. Everyone takes fashion so seriously around here. Laura has a hard time viewing it as anything but a joke. It's as if superheroes have created an entire industry outside of crime fighting, producing nothing but distractions and flashy logo advertisements. Yup, that's what everything boils down to in the end. The money. Sponsors all over the world send in millions for big supers to wear capes with a certain company's logo. Since crime fighting doesn't do much in the way of paying the bills, many heroes sign contracts. Then magazines like _Capes and Masks_ offer publicity for those superheroes and companies, and in some cases it can be beneficial. It's easier for some to save the public when the public is on their side. A lot of that trust comes from publicity stunts like personalized interviews, something which _Capes and Masks_ specializes in. But then there's the whole corporate greed side of things, and the strange focus on appearance. Something about it rubs Laura the wrong way.

There's still a few stragglers in the building, working late to keep up with the load. Their eyes flicker up from their computer screens to watch Karnstein strut barefoot across the office floor. Laura follows at her usual Safe Distance: close enough to answer any questions thrown her way, but far enough do dodge any projectiles thrown her way. Most of her reflexive training has come from being Karnstein's assistant.

The elevator ride to the bottom floor is interesting. Laura has long since become immune to Karnstein's aura of Come Near Me And Die, so it's fun to watch how others react to it. Some poor skinny kid from photography joins them on the tenth floor. He does a double take when he notices Karnstein, then immediately turns to try and leave the elevator only to have the doors close in his face. He stays in the same position for the next two floors, standing with the doors inches from his nose, and stumbles over his own feet in his hurry to escape once they open. The woman that's about to enter is a bit quicker on the uptake, and rushes away as if she wasn't just waiting for the elevator.

"Idiots, the lot of them," Karnstein mutters, despite having not looked up from her phone screen the entire time.

Laura holds back a snort.

When they finally reach the bottom floor, Laura makes a point of hurrying out of the elevator. She squeezes past Karnstein and makes a break for the exit. Freedom is within reach. She can practically taste Perry's pre-patrol hot cocoa, the special kind with actual melted chocolate instead of the cheap powdered stuff you see in—

"Harvell."

Laura's feet stop of their own accord, her body automatically responding to the "always there" threat of not answering Karnstein's call. "Yes…?" She responds, drawing out the word as she turns.

Karnstein walks forward until she's inches from Laura's face, who tries not to flinch when she leans in to whisper in her ear: "The next time you walk into my building injured will be the last time you walk into my building, _period._ Understood?"

Laura frowns and takes a step back. "Uh, I don't think that's entirely legal—" She cuts herself off when she realizes who she's talking to. Rules don't apply to the Karnstein empire.

As if reading her mind, Karnstein smiles. "Have a good night, Ms. Harklen." She pushes past Laura and practically struts towards the exit, where a limo is no doubt waiting to take her home.

Laura watches her leave, noting how dark it is outside. Righteous hatred aside, she has to give the woman credit for working so late. Karnstein averages at around eight hour days, minus the extra hours spent on multiple projects, charity stunts, and international meetings.

Not that, you know, she actually _works_ during those eight hours. Most of her time is spent sleeping at her desk or flirting with whatever girl-of-the-month she's seeing. But, she makes appearances, which is all anyone can ask of her.

 _Or rather all anyone is_ capable _of asking her,_ Laura thinks bitterly as she watches the doorman scramble to do his job when he sees Karnstein coming. He's so nervous he closes the door in Laura's face when she walks up.

"Ooh, sorry again, Laura!" The doorman winces down at her. He's a sweet boy. Hopelessly oblivious, but sweet.

Laura smiles through her pain, poking at her nose to make sure it's not broken. "Don't worry, Charlie. Let's just try to make this the last time, right?"

Charlie doesn't look too sure. Laura doesn't blame him. Around here, she's practically invisible.

:

:

:

 **A/N:** Let me let you in on a little secret: I actually have a thought out, planned plot-line for each chapter on this fic. I love this story more than I'm willing to admit, which is scary for me. So, if you like it, please tell me that you do, and trust me. Please trust me, and follow along. I promise I will finish this.


	2. Chapter 2

"Laura, the more you fight me, the more this is going to hurt!"

"Perry, the funny thing is, _I'm not actually fighting you!"_ Laura snaps.

She can't help it. Perry sucks at first aid. As soon as Laura stepped into the apartment, she'd been grabbed, tousled, manhandled, and practically thrown onto the couch. Laura's always wondered how such a caring person can be so horrible at healing. Of course, Laura immediately feels bad for thinking this when she sees the look on Perry's face. Her blue eyes are watery, and she's doing that weird thing where she bites her lip while it's quivering. Laura holds out for a second longer before sighing and shifting her upper body so that Perry can get a better death-grip on her arm.

"For someone who spent the whole day baking, you sure have cold hands," she grumbles.

"Well. You deserve frigid fingers after the stunt you pulled today," Perry scolds, all trace of hurt gone.

J.P. makes a sound of agreement from the next room.

Laura cranes her neck to look down the hall. "Is he still not speaking to me?"

"You know how he can be when you misuse his tech." Perry brings her face closer to Laura's shoulder as if she'll actually be able to see the rotator cuff if she looks hard enough.

"Oh, come on. What's the point of having a grappling hook if I can't use it in the field?"

There's the distinctive sound of J.P. dropping his coffee mug on his foot.

Perry sighs. "Laura, we only have this technology through special circumstances, and it's still hard to come by. Then there's the issue of your own safety, which you seem intent on ignoring—"

Laura rolls her shoulder out of Perry's grip and scrambles to her feet. "Perry, honestly, I'm fine! I heal faster than the average person anyways." She tries for a winning smile.

"Faster, but not fast enough," Perry retorts, fixing Laura with a knowing look. It lasts about two seconds before she twitches and glances down at her hands in her lap. "Now, I know this boss of yours might seem scary, but getting coffee is not a good enough excuse for—"

"Scary?! Who says she's scary?" Laura attempts to laugh nonchalantly. She ends up choking on her own spit.

Perry stands from the couch and re-stacks the magazines on the coffee table. It's the third time she's done this since Laura's been in the room, which means she's tense. Any second now and she'll make a lunge for the Lysol wipes.

As always, in the face of Perry's nervousness, Laura crumbles. She inches forward and puts a hand on Perry's back. "Look, if it means that much to you, I'll be more careful next time. I won't carry any gear I know isn't ready."

Perry smiles. "Thanks Laura, it really means— _wait a second."_ Her head whips around so fast that her curls smack Laura in the face. "You mean to tell me you knew the grappling hook wasn't ready, and you still attached it to your utility belt?!"

Laura immediately removes her hand and starts to back away. "Uh…sort of?"

Perry's eye twitches. "Care to elaborate?" She asks, her voice reaching a dangerously high pitch.

Luckily for Laura, LaFontaine chooses this moment to burst into the room with a mad grin on their face. "I just finished testing the lizard blood samples!" They crow.

"Really? What did you find?" Laura hurriedly sidesteps Perry, desperate for any distraction.

"Well, I was just going to do a simple cell count, but then I thought, eh, what the hell. I'll throw in a few more coagulation tests if I'm already…" They trail off when they lay eyes on Perry. "What happened to you?"

Perry sniffs and holds her head up in a desperate attempt to maintain her dignity. "Oh, nothing. I just had a small mess with that birthday delivery, that's all."

"You look like the sole survivor of a baking hurricane," LaFontaine says, and Laura has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Perry is still wearing her floral apron, though you can barely see the pattern under all the flour. She has sprinkles in her curls, glitter on her neck, and frosting on her face.

"I'm well aware of how I look," she says stiffly.

LaFontaine must notice they're heading towards dangerous territory, because they let the matter drop. "Right. So get this. When I was testing the blood samples I noticed something interesting. The blood clots at a normal speed!"

"Were you expecting it not to?" Laura glances down at the sheet of data LaFontaine is holding.

"Well, duh! The most recent study done on Australian reptiles showed that their blood clotting is rather sluggish."

"How do you know that?"

"How do you not?" LaFontaine gives Laura a look like _she's_ the crazy one.

"I'm sorry, what does this have to do with those giant disgusting lizards?" Perry asks.

LaFontaine visibly twitches. "They're not disgusting."

"Yes, they are! They live in the sewers."

LaFontaine raises their head in an attempt to look down their nose at Perry. It's not very effective from where Laura's standing. "So you're saying if they lived above ground they would be nice and civilized?"

"Well, no, they're still naked, and I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable—"

"They're a new species, Perr! Can't you see the beauty in that?!"

"All I can see is a bunch of naked scaly things that smell like excrement!"

"You can't compare then to humans, that's what makes them so fascinating!"

"Uh, guys?" Laura raises a hesitant finger in the air. "Are we forgetting the fact that the lizards could potentially, you know, eat people?"

Both LaFontaine and Perry stare at her.

"What's your point?" LaFontaine asks.

For a brief moment, Laura considers her life. She decides trying to apply logic to any current situation would be pretty…illogical

She lets out a weary sigh. "You were saying something about blood clotting?" Laura reminds LaF.

LaFontaine, bless their crazy heart, doesn't notice Laura's utter defeat. "Right! Yes! So, not only does the blood clot at a normal speed, but it clots at a normal _human_ speed!"

Laura winces. That can't be good. "What does that mean, and do I really want to know the answer?"

"Sorry ahead of time," LaFountaine says, not looking apologetic in the slightest.

It's just as well. Whoever said being a superhero was easy? She might as well go in with her metaphorical guns blazing. Laura takes a deep breath and slaps an optimistic smile on her face. "Alright, what's the plan of attack?"

It's no surprise to anyone that the plan is its usual brand of crazy mixed with enough strategy to slightly resemble logic. The pack killed this morning—thanks to the Countess—probably wasn't the only pack of lizard mutants in the city. LaFontaine has a hunch that one of the many mad scientists in the area had a slip-up with an experiment, and accidentally created a race of half-human half-lizards. At least, that would be the best outcome. The more likely cause of all this chaos is a villain who's turning people into lizards and using them for their own nefarious purposes. Now it's up to Laura to do some stealth sleuthing to figure out what these lizards are up to, besides causing mass panic. Laura will sneak back into the abandoned sewer nest to gather a few more samples. From there it's just a matter of finding and following a pack of mutant horrors as they unleash their terror upon the city. All without getting caught, of course. Piece of cake.

LaFontaine convinces J.P. to talk to Laura, at least long enough to prepare her for the mission. He gives her a taser that's packed with enough juice to take out a "small elephant," as well as a distress signal should things turn south. Laura starts to tell him a distress signal would be pretty useless at that point, but she shuts up when he gives her a crazed look. Perry makes herself useful by forcing Laura to eat and stretch. Laura humors her, but draws the line at packing snacks. Perry takes offense to this, and Laura continues to hear about it all the way to the sewers.

"Well, excuse me for trying to get something healthy in your system."

Laura rolls her eyes as she lifts the manhole cover. "I said I was sorry, Pear."

"You'll be sorry when you're suffering from scurvy. Tell me, have you eaten anything this week that wasn't packaged or covered in frosting?"

"Uh, I had a box of raisins last Tuesday?"

"Those were chocolate chips."

"Meh, same thing."

"No, they're really not— _what on earth are you doing?!"_

Laura stops halfway down the sewer ladder. "Is that a trick question?"

"Pear, she's going back into the sewers to get more samples, then she's going to find a lizard pack and follow—"

"I thought she was just going to go _near_ the sewers, not back in them!"

"Whose idea was it to allow Pear to view the live feed?" Laura asks before dropping down into the darkness below.

Both LaF and J.P. mumble sheepishly.

Laura sighs. "Of course."

"Stop it. I have a right to know what's going on, and seeing as I'm the only one with any sense of self-preservation on this so-called team, it's in everyone's best interest that I look over whatever half-cooked scheme you three have—

"Pear, I love you, but you need to be quiet. It's time for me to concentrate."

"Oh. Yes. Sorry."

Laura shuts her eyes and allows the surrounding sewers to overwhelm her senses. The smells and sounds rise to a great crescendo before fading to the back of her mind. Once she's properly focussed, she attempts to seek out any large sources of life, creatures with beating hearts and thought patterns similar to her own. Sensing nothing, she tries again, allowing her mind to sweep through the tunnels. Still darkness. With a deep breath, Laura stretches her search to include smaller living creatures, her mind now searching for any forms of life. Rats reveal themselves to her. Their life forces, usually a dull gray color, are now sparking with yellow currents of fear. Something has scared them, something nearby.

Something powerful.

She concentrates on the life force of one particular rat, and tries to pinpoint the exact reason for its fear. Understanding the feelings of animals is always easier the less intelligent the animal is, though the messages are often based on instinct rather than coherent thought. From the rat, Laura can discern a strong sense of panic, but not much else.

 _"Run. Loud. Sharp. Loud. Pain. Run. Run. Big,"_ Laura whispers, voicing what she can understand.

"Uh, Bandit? You still with us?"

Laura opens her eyes slowly, allowing the glow of the life forces to fade away. "Yeah. Sorry. The rats down here are pretty scared."

"Were you able to understand them?" J.P. asks the same time Perry squeaks, _"Rats?!"_

"Somewhat. They're mostly frightened of something loud, sharp, and big. But, it's weird. I can't sense any large life forms down here, just like last time. If the Countess killed all the lizard mutates this morning, what are the rats afraid of?"

"It could just be circumstance," LaF mutters. "Very freaky circumstance."

"Right. And when are we ever that lucky?" Laura pulls out her flashlight. "I'm going to check it out."

"You know, maybe you should—"

"Sorry, can't hear you over me checking this out." Laura shines her light over the walls of the sewer, noting how there doesn't seem to be any new scratches. She makes her way to the lizard nest tunnel with newfound confidence.

"Caution, please. Move slowly," J.P. warns, though he sounds much too interested to be truly wary.

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all," Perry says, her voice slightly muffled. She's probably biting her fingernails. "Can't she convince one of the rats to do this instead?"

"That's not how her powers work," J.P. says patiently.

"Unfortunately," LaFontaine grumbles.

Laura bites her cheek to keep from laughing. LaFontaine has known about Laura's abilities since college, and despite the clear evidence that Laura will never be able to use her powers for "mind control," they continue to see it as a possible goal. Laura has long since abandoned any hope of convincing LaF her powers don't work like that, no matter how hard she tries. J.P. often theorizes that Laura's abilities have more to do with a person's aura than their mind. She can read "on the surface" thoughts as long as they're connected to emotions. The more complex the emotions, the muddier the message.

Of course, if aura reading was all Laura could do, she'd be working as a personal counselor instead of chasing demonic sewer dwelling lizard-people.

"It's very quiet down here," Laura says, just now becoming aware of her rising anxiety. "Something doesn't feel right."

"No, don't say that, nothing good ever happens when you say that."

"Pear, we've got this under control. Why don't you go frost those sugar cookies in the fridge?" LaFontaine suggests. Perry huffs and quiets down, though Laura doubts she's moved away from the screen.

Maybe it's because Laura knows what to expect in the tunnel, but the sewer seems slightly more sinister than it did this morning. There's almost a sense of malice to the silence, as though something big is holding its breath in anticipation. Laura swallows past her fear and moves forward into the nesting tunnel.

She's prepared to see the same blood and gore from this morning, but to her amazement, the tunnel is empty. She freezes in place, shining her flashlight over the walls in a great arch. The scratches are there, proof that she's in the right tunnel, but there's no blood. No bones, no slime, nothing gross. It's all gone.

"Are you guys seeing this?" Laura asks.

"Wait, where are you? Is that the—"

"Yeah, there's no blood."

 _"What?"_

"Inspect the walls," J.P. orders. "Is there really no sign of blood?"

"Um," Laura moves closer to one of the walls. "Nope. It's spotless. Well, as spotless as a sewer can be."

"But there's still evidence of scratches. Lizards have been here."

"Or someone's cleaned up after themselves," Laura mutters, moving her light from the wall to the floor.

"Cleaned up? Who?" Perry asks.

"She left me a note this morning, maybe there's something here…" The light reflects off something shiny. "Aha!" Laura bends down and picks up what appears to be a strip of black ribbon. When she swipes the flashlight over it, the light reflects off a shimmery _C_ that's been stitched into the fabric. "The Countess," she says through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure it's her?" J.P. asks.

"Yeah, it looks like her brand. Not very subtle, huh?" LaFontaine sounds bored.

"Do you think she cleaned the tunnel?"

"I'm sure of it," Laura mutters darkly, closing her fist around the ribbon. Teasing notes are one thing, but covering up evidence? _Subterfuge._ Thinking quickly, Laura exits the tunnel and walks purposefully towards the sewer ladder. LaFontaine and J.P. busy themselves by trying to describe the Countess to Perry.

"She's not a hero. At least, she's not listed in the public database," J.P. says.

"But she's not exactly a villain either," LaF adds. "She probably is, but she's never gotten caught."

"True, however, she's somewhat connected to a number of gang disputes and mysterious disappearances. The flair of her fighting style has gained a quiet reputation, but it's unclear what sort of work she does."

LaFontaine snorts. "Duh? She's a hit-man? Assassin for hire."

"Not necessarily. The Summer Society isn't listed in the hero database, but they're still considered heroes."

"The Summers aren't listed in the database because they don't cooperate with law enforcement. They follow their own Artemis code, or whatever."

"The path of Adonis."

"Woah, Pear, how do you know that?"

"One of them came into the shop, remember? She questioned me about some burglaries in the area. Nice girl, bought a carrot cake cupcake."

"Oh, right. She was such a lousy tipper— _WOAH_ hold on a second. Bandit, where are you going?"

"Out," Laura says.

"Right. Like, out of the sewer, or out as in you're going out in the general downtown area and wow okay you are running now. Why are you running?"

Instead of answering, Laura quickens her pace. She sprints to the ladder and grabs at the highest rung she can reach, grateful she's wearing the grip enforced gloves J.P. developed last week. She climbs the ladder in a rush, knowing she has to act quick for her plan to work.

"Is something bad happening? Is someone chasing her?!" Perry asks, already panicking.

"No, I don't believe so. Bandit, what is the reason for this?" J.P. demands. "You clearly have a plan, let us know what it is."

"You'll see in a moment," Laura grits out as she heaves her weight against the manhole cover. Dammit, she should have left it open when she entered the sewer. She's losing time. With a desperate heave, she's able to position the manhole so that she can push it out of the way. She's greeted with fresh air, a dark alley, and a glimpse of a shadowy figure jerking away from the edge of a rooftop.

"Oh, dear," J.P. says quietly. LaF swears. Laura grabs her grappling hook.

No shoulder dislocation this time. J.P. had been making adjustments to the device all day, and his hard work's apparent in the easy ride Laura takes to the rooftop. There's no one waiting for her, but something dark and lithe is climbing up the wall of a nearby sushi bar. Laura runs for the edge of the rooftop.

"Don't jump!" Perry cries.

"She's gonna jump," LaFontaine deadpans.

Laura doesn't jump, thank you very much. She _leaps_ from one roof to the next, softening her landing with a somersault. That maneuver saves time, but doesn't do her shoulder any favors.

"Watch it," J.P. hisses when Laura tries the exact same move with the next building, and nearly rolls off the edge.

"I'm fine," she snaps, breathing hard.

 _"On your left!"_

Laura dodges the dart easily. She figures it was more of a warning shot. She picks up her pace.

"Drop down into the second alleyway and you can cut her off at the sex toy store," LaFontaine says, talking about as fast as Laura's moving.

"Got it." Laura practically dives for a fire escape, swinging her way down the bars using a technique her dad taught her in the eighth grade. She hits the ground and bolts out into the streets, dodging passerby's who hardly give her a second glance. Laura heads for the back of the sex toy shop LaF mentioned, following a hunch. She pulls out the taser.

The Countess drops in front of Laura and immediately tries to jab something in her neck. Laura instinctively blocks the assault with one hand, and holds up the taser with the other. "Don't make me use this," she hisses.

The woman hesitates. Then, in a flurry of movement that's almost too quick for Laura to catch, the Countess flings an arm out to one side and sends something flying.

Laura's head jerks around to find a destroyed security camera with a wicked looking knife sticking out of it. She swallows. She's probably about to die.

When she looks back at the Countess, she's surprised to see the woman has taken a few steps away from Laura. Not out of range of the taser, but she's within an easy dodging distance. Laura suddenly realizes they're both blocked from street view. The back alley of the sex store is nestled a secluded corner; no cameras, no people, no witnesses. For some reason, the idea's more thrilling than scary.

The last time Laura had gotten a good look at the Countess, she was following a lead on a small drug trafficking ring. They crossed paths for all of thirty seconds, and her costume is just as ridiculous now as it was back then. Most of her body is covered with some sort of black, skintight material, though Laura's hesitant to call it latex. It gleams in the dark, almost as if it were made out of tiny metal plates. On top of this, the Countess is wearing a lace covered corset. It's a completely unnecessary addition to a costume that's already pretty foolish, but for some reason Laura can't stop _staring_ at it. It's so gaudy and strange and hugs her curves and oh yeah that's why.

As is customary, the Countess is wearing a mask. It's an expensive looking masquerade piece that probably comes directly from Italy. It's a deep red color with black and silver swirls stitched into the design. It takes Laura a moment to realize the eyeholes are covered in mesh.

"She's a bit much, isn't she?" Perry whispers in Laura's ear.

"So I've been told," the Countess says with a wry smile. Perry squeaks in alarm.

Laura immediately mutes her communicator. If the Countess has super hearing, she can't risk the safety of her friends. She doesn't trust this woman not to track down the voices in Laura's ear.

"I have some questions for you," Laura says, grasping the taser with both hands.

The Countess cocks her head to one side. "That outfit. Did you make it yourself?"

"I—What?"

She shrugs. "It's durable, I'll give you that, but some of your pockets are uneven."

Laura fights the urge to inspect her pants."You…you were waiting to watch me leave the sewer. Why?"

"I wanted to be sure you got my message. Is that an actual utility belt?" The Countess says, moving from one topic to the next with no pause.

Laura feels a bit embarrassed. She doesn't know why. The belt is useful, and it's not like she's got some stupid, narcissistic symbol on it. What right does the Countess have to judge her outfit when the woman's literally fighting crime in a corset?

Probably reading her thoughts, the Countess' smile grows, and she takes one step forward. Laura glances down at her feet, half expecting to see stilettos. She's somewhat surprised by the durable looking, lightweight combat boots.

"My eyes are up here," she says, and Laura fights the urge to pull the trigger on the taser. Just 'cus.

"You were the one that cleaned the sewer," Laura says, fighting for the upper hand in this conversation.

The Countess slowly lifts her hand to pluck a hair pin out of her intricately woven mass of dark curls. "Yes," she says, inspecting the pin as if it's the most interesting thing about this situation. "If we're going to state the obvious, you look like a knock-off Kim Possible. With a mask."

Really, nobody would blame her if she used the taser on this woman. LaF and J.P. would be on board. Perry might need some convincing. Besides, there's nothing _wrong_ with styling her costume after Kim Possible. The maroon cargo pants are durable.

"Why did you clean the sewer?" Laura grits out. "Were you disposing of evidence?"

The Countess shrugs.

"Are you involved with the lizards?"

"Am I—oh, dear gods above. You're just too much, Bandit." She lets out a little laugh that may or may not cause Laura to flinch. "I happen to be in the same position as you, only two steps ahead." She pauses. "Perhaps ten steps ahead. I have all the information I need. There's no need for you to carry on."

"Right, like I'm going to believe that. You're not a superhero." Laura feels as though someone should say it at some point.

The Countess stares at her. "So?"

Laura's stumped for a moment. "So…well, what reason do you have for, uh, looking into this? Is someone paying you?"

The Countess clicks her tongue. "Time's up. No more questions."

"What?"

"You heard me. I've given you more than enough answers for your insipid little investigative work." She takes several steps forward. Laura stands her ground. "Consider this a warning, Bandit. Stick to petty crime. Muggings, burglary, volunteer work. Make the world a better place." She leans in, her pale chin right above the taser. "If you ignore this sound advice, I can't say I can guarantee your own safety. Or the safety of your friends."

Laura's blood runs cold, then hot. "Is that a threat?"

The Countess scoffs. "Weren't you listening? This is a warning, a wake up call." She straightens, her lips still frozen in that mocking little smile. "Pay attention."

Laura sees the attack coming a second before it happens. She dodges the blow to her gut and fires the taser. Well, she tries to fire the taser. It's knocked out of her hands at superhuman speed. When she goes to deliver a punch to the face, she hits nothing but air. A strong arm wraps around her neck, hauling Laura back with a surprising amount of force. She feels a quick, stinging pain in her neck, and instantly begins to panic.

"Shh," the Countess whispers in her ear, easily stifling Laura's struggles. "That was nothing dangerous, see?" She holds the hair pin in front of Laura's face. "Just a little something to get you out of my hair for a few, crucial minutes. Relax."

As she's talking, Laura's vision starts to blur. She tries to fight, but her movements become sluggish as her body grows numb. It's not long before she's leaning back against her attacker, allowing the Countess to support her weight.

"There we go," a voice murmurs through the fog. "Just rest. Close your eyes, there's a good girl."

A cool hand touches her cheek, brushing back a strand of hair. The world goes dark.

:

:

:

"A hair pin."

Laura lowers her head as she pulls her blankets tight around her shoulders, doing her best to avoid Perry's eyes.

"You were defeated by a _hair pin."_

"It's actually a rather ingenious little contraption, much like that voice modifier the Countess was using," LaF pipes up from behind Perry. "I wouldn't say that—"

 _"I don't care what you would say,"_ Perry snaps. LaF immediately falls silent.

In a flurry of angry movement, Perry grabs yet another blanket and throws it in the general direction of the couch. Laura had only been unconscious in that alleyway for around seven minutes, but Perry's insistent on treating her like a hypothermic invalid.

"Sure, let's go confront the dangerous lady in black. All alone, no backup, no forewarning, let's just dive right in and hope we don't get killed," Perry rants as she searches for more blankets.

"She appears to be muttering again," J.P. whispers.

"I am not!"

"You kinda are—"

"Don't start with me, Laura Hollis!" Perry whirls on her. "You have me worried _sick_ whenever you go out, and then to see you do dumb things like this?!"

"That was necessary," Laura insists. "She was going to get away."

"She was dangerous!"

"Well, what did you want me to do? Abandon ship and let her escape?"

"Yes!" Perry cries. "Live to fight another day!"

"I did!" Laura gets to her feet, letting the blankets fall off her shoulders and onto the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices J.P. step behind LaF. "I'm not dead! Shouldn't that be a good thing?!"

"When the only thing you have to boast about is the fact that you haven't died, no, it's not a good thing," Perry throws back.

Laura laughs. "I'm used to it! I've been doing this since college. My methods haven't changed since then."

Perry shakes her head, stepping around the couch so she's standing in front of Laura. "In college, we were up against drunken frat boys and rowdy pot heads! Now there's lizards, and _sewers,_ and crazy ladies who put poison in their hair pins."

"Yeah, welcome to the real world, Perry," Laura says, perhaps a bit too harshly. "Just because you weren't prepared for this doesn't mean I'm going to give up. I'm more than capable of handling whatever's thrown my way, and I'm getting pretty tired of everyone underestimating me! I appreciate your concern, but every warning you give me is one more thing that's holding me back!"

The room's quiet. Laura's still seething, so she doesn't quite see the affect of her words until Perry leaves the room. The anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Laura's left wondering why she was shouting, why she got so upset. She doesn't argue with Perry. She's never had any reason to.

"Wow," J.P. whispers. Laura turns to find LaF glaring at her.

"Why the hell would you say she's holding you back?"

"She wants me to stop," Laura says, but it's weak.

"You're going in there and apologizing."

"And what about you? Your complaints have always been similar."

LaFontaine rolls their eyes. "Yeah, but I don't yell them in her face. And neither do you." They give her a pointed look.

Laura looks towards the kitchen, where Perry's probably hiding. "Yeah."

"I believe Perry would appreciate you speaking with her," J.P. says, peeking at Laura from around LaF's shoulders.

As if waiting for her cue, Perry sniffs loudly in the next room. Laura winces. She gives J.P. and LaF a nod, and moves to open the door. Behind her, LaFontaine starts telling J.P. that machines and dead specimens are much better than people.

Just as predicted, Perry's in the kitchen, pulling out a huge mixing bowl. She doesn't look up when Laura comes in, but focuses on placing the bowl on the counter next to a jar of powdered sugar. When Laura notices a box of strawberries, she begins to worry. Perry only makes cheesecake when she's truly upset.

"Perry?" She begins hesitantly.

"I know the three of you are worried about me. I don't contribute much," Perry says, still not looking at Laura. "I'm overbearing, and controlling, and much too scared to deal with any of this stuff."

Laura frowns. "That's not true. You're one of the bravest people I know."

Perry lets out a high-pitched laugh. "Don't lie to me, Laura Hollis. I'm constantly shaking in my boots whenever anything happens around here."

"Yeah, but, you stay," Laura says. She moves forward to stand next to Perry. After a moment's pause, she unboxes the strawberries and begins to pick off the stems. "When I was younger, my dad used to say to me that true bravery is being scared, being utterly terrified, but still standing your ground and doing what's right. We should always be fearful, but as soon as we allow that fear to control us, we've lost." She pushes the stems into a little pile, noticing how hard Perry is listening. "I've never seen you back down from anything."

Perry's silent. Laura notices a strange twinkle in her eye, as if she's remembering a great secret. "When I was small," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I used to dream that I was magical. You know, we'd hear all these superhero stories on the news, and I loved it. I wanted to fly."

Laura stares at her. She's never heard this before. "You wanted to be a superhero?"

"Oh, yes. More than anything."

"What changed?"

Perry shrugs, and reaches for a knife to cut the strawberries. "I didn't get powers, first of all. That took forever for me to accept, that I was normal. LaFontaine was there to help me. At first." She sliced into a strawberry with a surprising amount of force. "When we went off to college, they started to draw away from me. They started to discover themselves, and apparently, that process didn't involve me. Well, it did, but I was too blind to see it."

Laura wouldn't dare speak now, though the speed at which Perry is cutting is getting a bit scary.

"This was before I knew you. If you had met me back then, I probably would have frightened you off. I was a bit obsessed with superheroes. I followed all the news, subscribed to the magazines, bought practically all the merchandise…" She snorted. "And then someone attacked my school."

 _"What?!"_ Laura cries. She'd attended the same, strange little northern university as LaF, Perry, and J.P.. As far as she knows, there hadn't been any attacks.

Perry nods. "It was a year before you arrived. An unknown super villain entered the school. She called herself a fairy queen, like Titania from _A Midsummer Night's Dream?_ She kept turning boys into donkeys." She pauses, then smiles a bit. "That part was funny. But then she held my dorm hostage."

"Dear Merlin," Laura whispers.

Perry pauses in her cutting. "That's a Harry Potter reference, isn't it?"

"Uh, maybe."

"Huh."

"You were saying?"

"Oh. Yes. She held my dorm hostage, and invited us to join her army, to help her take over the world. It was crazy, her plan didn't make sense, but she offered to give us powers." Perry shrugs, not meeting Laura's eyes. "And, well, I considered it. I considered joining."

"What stopped you?"

"Finals. I figured all that studying would go to waste if I took part in destroying the world. Oh, and I didn't want to leave my best friend behind."

Laura wonders if LaF knows about this. They probably do, but the story sounds like ancient history. LaFontaine only likes to talk about the past if it fits the situation.

Perry slides the strawberry slices into a bowl with a quick flick of her knife. "We were held hostage for two hours. It became increasingly more obvious that the so-called fairy queen was hiding from the campus police after the wreckage she caused, and came up with the army recruitment excuse in order to appear in control. It was terrifying. I kept expecting a superhero to arrive."

"Did one?"

"No, no one did," Perry says matter-of-factly, tearing open a tub of cream cheese. "Eventually, the fairy queen got scared and surrendered to the authorities. It was all very anti-climatic. Later it was announced that she had planned to sacrifice lives to an ancient vampiric goddess, or something equally unimaginative and psychotic."

Laura can only gape at Perry. "Why on earth didn't I hear about this?! I went to the same school!"

"Well, I suppose things can get lost in the grapevine," Perry says with little sigh. "Trust me, it wasn't big news. There were more important things going on at the time. Like the Super Bowl. Oh, and The Bachelor that year was pretty exciting."

Laura stares at her.

Perry smiles. "I'm kidding. The college hushed it up. The attacker was apparently an alumni, class of '94. No one wanted to talk about it, it was so bizarre. Even I shied away from the topic for years." She starts to spoon the cheese into a mixing bowl. "Of course, I was still realizing I could have died. LaFontaine and I grew closer afterwards. Near death experiences will do that."

"I'll bet," Laura whispers.

"After that, I just became more cautious about, well, everything. I wanted nothing to do with superheroes." She throws Laura a smile. "Then you came along."

"But you didn't know I had powers at first."

Perry considers that. "No, I guess not. I'm still getting used to it."

Laura studies her for a moment. If she were to take a peek at Perry's life force, she'd expect to see dark green pulses of sorrow. "Something else happened during the hostage crisis, right?" She asks hesitantly.

Perry doesn't stop moving, but her motions become much more wooden and focussed. There's a slight pause before she answers. "During the crisis, there was a girl who tried to fight back. She…she picked up a chair and threw it. The fairy queen deflected it, and the chair flew back." She swallows. "She didn't move, the girl, and there was blood. Lots of it. We thought…" Perry trails off, then turns to Laura. "She wasn't. Dead, I mean. She recovered. But I saw her get hit with that chair, I saw her body go limp and powerless, against this god-like being."

Laura nods.

"I just thought, wow. No one deserves to have that much power over anyone. And then I kept thinking about LaFontaine and whether or not they were safe, and who else was hurt, and…"

Perry falls silent. She's nowhere near tears, but Laura can sense hysteria on the horizon, so she helps where she can. Perry accepts her offered hug and squeezes tight, engulfing Laura in her curls.

"I just want all of you to be safe," Perry whispers. "Is that too much to ask? For everyone to be safe?"

Laura squeezes back, trying not to focus on the familiarity of the conversation. She digs deep, and repeats what she once told her dad. "Sometimes, safety doesn't get anything done. Boundaries need to be pushed."

Perry sniffs.

Laura pulls away to look her in the eyes. "But the important thing is that I'm safe now. We all are. We made it out." She smiles. "It's time to lick our wounds and plan for tomorrow."

Perry sniffs again, and tries for a watery smile. "You mean lick _your_ wounds?"

"Exactly!" Laura pats Perry on the shoulder. "Here, let me show you the one I got on my elbow when I screwed up that summersault."

"Laura."

"See? All ripe for the licking. I can't reach it myself, of course."

"Very funny."

"And then there's this bruise I have on my stomach, think you can lick that?"

"Laura— _Laura,_ pull down your shirt!"

"Why? Aren'tcha gonna lick it?"

"No!" Perry cries, but she's laughing, and trying to hold Laura back. "You're being ridiculous!"

"See, you say that, but you're still not licking my bruise. I'm _injured,_ Perry."

Laura continues to crowd Perry up against the counter, lifting her shirt over her head and demanding that her wounds be licked good and proper. This is the scene LaFontaine and J.P. find when they enter the kitchen.

J.P. clears his throat. "What is…what."

"Yeah, I don't know. And I don't care," LaF says.

"I have a bruise on my belly," Laura tells them.

"As if that offers any explanation."

"She needs to lick it."

"Wow. You should stop talking now."

"Noted." Laura pulls down her shirt.

LaF turns to Perry. "You okay?" They look as though they want to offer comfort, but don't quite know how to proceed. They wind up leaning forward a bit and staring. Laura shares a look with J.P.

Perry nods, flashing a quick grin. "Yes, I'm fine. For now, at least."

LaFontaine doesn't seem to buy it. "Do you want to talk? Just me and you?"

Laura shares yet another look with J.P.. It's obvious that LaF _really_ wants to talk about what just happened, probably in private, but Perry doesn't seem to catch on. Or, if she does, she avoids the issue. She shakes her head, gives LaF a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and goes back to preparing the cheesecake. LaF stands there a moment, then moves to help, their expression blank.

J.P. raises his eyebrows at Laura. _Should we say something…?_

Laura gives him a small, imperceptible shake of her head. Another problem for another day.

:

:

:

Laura usually works through her lunch breaks at _Capes and Masks._ Not out of choice, but more out of a sense of self preservation. However, today she manages to squeeze fifteen minutes out of her schedule to chat with Kirsch in one of the break rooms. He's not much of a conversationalist, but he's a fantastic listener. At the moment, Laura is ranting about the Silas police force.

"I mean, it's as if they're a hive mind! Have you ever tried talking to one of them? They all speak in the exact same voice. It's eery."

Kirsch shrugs. He's currently trying to fish a carrot chunk out of his thermos of soup. "They don't look the same."

Laura nods, rapping her fork against the table. "True, that's certainly true. They all range in size in age. But I swear, I once had a conversation with a meter maid at a coffee shop on the upper east side, and two months later, an entirely different cop attempted to continue the conversation where we had left off. It's no wonder superheroes are the primary source of law enforcement in this city," she finishes with a flourish, tossing her fork in the air for Kirsch to catch.

He does so without looking up from his soup, and uses the fork to spear a carrot chunk. "I mean, that's good, right? To have a big superhero population?"

Laura laughs. "Well, obviously. We'd both be out a job if that wasn't the case. But we can't fully rely on superheroes. Most of them are self-trained, even if they're registered."

Kirsh munches on his carrot as he thinks it over. "Yeah, but what sort of cop's gonna have laser eyes?" He points the fork at her with a triumphant smile. "Laser eyes are awesome."

Laura rolls her eyes, but smiles back. "You're so predictable."

"I know. It's what women like about me."

 _"Psst!"_ A voice hisses from the door. Laura turns around to find an intern staring at them both with wide eyes. "You two might want to get to Karnstein. Like, _now."_

Laura and Kirsch share a look, then quickly put down their food and race out into the hall. People who see them coming quickly move out of the way, or more accurately, out of Kirsch's way. His broad shoulders and tall frame act as an excellent crowd parter. All Laura has to do is stay close. They turn a corner, pass the elevators, and skid to a halt in front of the familiar row of desks. Sparing a moment to tuck in ties and straighten skirts, they power walk briskly down the aisle. Karnstein hates running.

When they reach the door to her office, they have a silent conversation wherein it's agreed it would be better if they entered together, as a unit. Kirsch takes a deep breath, summons a rather painful looking smile, and opens the door for both of them.

Karnstein's at her desk, looking over the blue binder Laura had hidden for her yesterday. Laura doesn't recall ever retrieving the binder, but that's not too much of a surprise. What is a surprise is the woman perched on the end of the desk, one leg crossed over the other underneath a short red skirt. Like Karnstein, she's recognizable on sight.

 _"Mattie,"_ Laura mutters under her breath. Kirsh's spine immediately straightens.

Mattie Karnstein, otherwise known as brains behind the Karnstein empire, is herald throughout the world as an absolute fashion genius. She holds court primarily in Paris, and only comes to Silas when she wants to visit her "precious little sister". If Carmilla's a terror to work under, Mattie's the true horror of all mortal men. Like her sister, she's absolutely stunning, but there are obvious differences between the two. While Carmilla's aloof, Mattie's sharp. While Carmilla's constantly amused, Mattie's plotting her next move. While Carmilla remains untouchable, Mattie's out for blood.

Laura has never been in the same room as Mattie for more than thirty seconds. She's seen her in passing, has followed a few quick orders, but she's always been too distracted by whatever it is Carmilla wants her to do. Now that she's standing in this room with both of the Karnsteins, all of Laura's senses are on edge. There's great emotional power here between them. Something about the relationship feels ancient, and the weight of it bears down on Laura's shoulders. She hastily attempts to focus on the physical world.

"Dearest, you couldn't be more wrong," Mattie says. She taps a sharpened, manicured nail against a page in the binder. "The base of the collection is symmetry. The power behind sharp lines."

Carmilla hums to herself, and runs a hand through her hair and over her scalp. "Yes, but why sacrifice maneuverability? Functionality should remain."

"Then tweak it. Should be simple enough."

Then, something truly terrifying happens. Carmilla smiles. It's not mocking, or teasing, or amused; it's an honest to god smile. Her entire face changes, lights up, and Laura can't help the little flutter of her heart.

She coughs. Carmilla looks up. Laura and Kirsch freeze.

"What are you doing here?" Carmilla asks, her smile vanishing as if it never existed. She stands from her seat.

"We were told you needed us," Kirsch says.

"Yes, only you, not her," Carmilla snaps. Laura would be more insulted if she wasn't so confused by Carmilla's tone. She's angry, almost frantic, as if she's about to be caught doing something dangerous.

"Don't worry, dear," Mattie says absently. Her eyes haven't left the binder. "The more bodies, the better. Or something like that."

"No, it's fine," Carmilla says, stepping around her desk. She's wearing a collard shirt and black leather pants today, a strike contrast to Mattie's red. "Hollard, go down to storage and help them organize last season's belts."

"We finished that this morning, Miss Karnstein," Laura says. Carmilla's cheeks color a bit.

Mattie's head rises at that. "Miss Karnstein? Since when did you have them call you…" She trails off when she sees Laura, the patronizing smirk falling from her lips. "Oh. Hello, there."

"Erm, hi?" Laura says, a bit thrown off by the sudden change in mood.

Mattie moves forward, passing a rather panicked looking Carmilla, and stands just in front of Laura. She towers over her in six inch heels, causing Laura to lean her head back a bit just to maintain eye contact.

"What's your name?"

"Laura Hollis. We've met before," she says before she can think better of it.

But Mattie seems to enjoy it. Her lips stretch into a cheshire smile, and she practically purrs, "Yes, I should say that we have."

"Mattie," Carmilla murmurs. It sounds like a warning.

"But of course, you work here!" Mattie says, suddenly much more cheerful. She reaches out and clasps her hands over Laura's. "What is it that you do, exactly?"

Laura's senses flare up again when Mattie's skin touches hers. She almost drowns in different sensations of amusement, sorrow, guilt, unbridled rage and _fear_ before she can muster up some resolve and answer the question. "I'm, um, one of Miss Karnstein's personal assistants."

"Are you?" Mattie turns to smirk at Carmilla over her shoulder. "I can't say I'm surprised."

Somehow, Laura gets the distinct feeling she's witnessing two entirely different conversations, though she's part of neither. Carmilla's expression is carefully schooled into its usual brand of disinterest, but Laura can see the tense set of her shoulders. Laura decides she really doesn't want to be a part of whatever this is.

"Most people, um, assume I'm an intern," she says awkwardly. She tries to pull her hands away, but Mattie's grip tightens around her wrists with an extraordinary amount of strength. Laura winces.

"Mattie, dearest," Carmilla drawls, stepping forward a bit. "My assistant will need her hands for work. I would prefer them to remain intact."

Mattie hesitates for a moment, her dark eyes flicking over Laura's face as if she's searching for a hidden detail. Then, with a sugary sweet smile, she releases Laura's hands. "My apologies. I'm told I can be a bit forward." She laughs.

Laura smiles weakly, rubbing her sore wrists behind her back. Kirsch is staring at her with wide eyes. _What the hell just happened?_

"Fetch the fabric swatches from last week's design lab, along with the original sketch binder," Carmilla orders, effectively dismissing Laura and Kirsch.

"But bring them to the large conference room on the sixteenth floor, we'll be having a meeting," Mattie adds. Laura glances behind her, watching as Carmilla pinches the bridge of her nose and shuts her eyes. Something's…not right.

But, it's apparently none of her business. Mattie shoos them out of the office and shuts the door behind them. Kirsch immediately turns to Laura.

"Are you alright? What was that?! She…that was…" he splutters, whirling around to stare at the office door. Laura ignores him, and focuses her senses on the conversation on the other side.

"You never change, do you?" Mattie is saying. She sounds less amused than before.

"I had no choice in the matter."

"Of course."

"I'm in complete control."

"I'm sure."

There's a pause, and then Carmilla says, "It's the same. No matter where we end up, it follows the pattern. I'm alone in this."

She sounds completely defeated. Larau's almost shocked. She's never thought of Carmilla Karnstein as anything less than a terrifying pillar of strength. Her voice sounds broken and tired, as if she's bearing a great weight. Laura tries to think back to the other times Mattie has visited. As far as she knows, she hasn't seen anything like this.

"Laura!" Kirsch's voice calls out, snapping Laura out of her focus. He's standing in front of her, a concerned look on his face. "You sure you're alright?"

Laura stares at him for a couple of seconds before she comprehends what he's asking. "Oh, yeah, I'm good." She smiles. "It's going to take more than some hand squeezing to rattle me." She brushes past him and walks down the aisle of desks, ignoring the nagging feeling that she's missing something incredibly important.

As the day continues, it becomes immediately obvious that Carmilla and Mattie are going to act as though this afternoon never happened. Mattie forgets Laura's name almost instantly, and takes to calling her things like, "cardigan," "cat-lady-in-training," "barely legal," and Laura's personal favorite, "The one that mutters under her breath when I yell at her."

Carmilla shows no signs of exhaustion or defeat. She lets Mattie take control over the meeting, and occupies herself by ordering Laura around. Seriously, that's all she does. Laura finds herself running all over the building, and she know she's doing more work than usual when her coworkers start sending her fearful looks. It's at the point where the fraction of time between each new task has dropped to thirty seconds. She's on her feet the entire day.

Thoughts of the strange afternoon fade as time drags on. The conference lasts for six hours, and by the end of it Laura's so tired she can hardly see straight. She merely nods to each new order, not really thinking, just acting on the whim. Carmilla has just given her two boxes to carry to her office, something that could have surely waited until tomorrow. Laura pushes the door open with her shoulder and stumbles inside.

She nearly drops the boxes on her feet when she sees she's not alone. Mattie's standing at Carmilla's bar, mixing a drink. She doesn't look up at Laura's gasp.

Laura decides she can place the boxes on Carmilla's desk and leave without being noticed. Her first step lands on a pencil, and the boxes tumble to the ground. She flushes, swears under her breath, and gathers up the contents.

When she stands, Mattie is watching her. "Be careful," she says, voice oddly quiet. "You don't want to hurt yourself."

It's all Laura can do to nod and carry the boxes safely to the desk. "I thought you were still at the conference," she says, hoping to be polite if Mattie insists on acknowledging her.

Mattie hums and swirls her drink. "You know, the rest of the crowd here would never dare to start a conversation with me."

Laura freezes. "I, uh…"

"Don't worry, I like it." She smirks, and takes a sip of her drink.

Laura just stands there. She has a feeling she's not allowed to leave.

Mattie pulls her glass away from her lips with a slight grimace. "She has better taste than this," she hisses. "Who stocks her liquor?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm." Mattie studies Laura. She's leaning up against the bar, ankles crossed. There's something almost otherworldly about her. Not a blemish in sight, beautiful, but terrifying. She's inhumanly still. Even now, as she swirls her glass, every movement seems calculated and controlled. It's disconcerting.

Laura is suddenly, painfully aware that this is the first time she's been alone in a room with Mattie Karstein. She feels on edge for some reason, as though she's about to be attacked. It's obviously just her overworked paranoia, but her eyes still scan Mattie's form for any signs of concealed weaponry. (But really, _nothing_ can be concealed in that skirt.)

"Oh, stop your panicking," Mattie says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I can practically hear your heartbeat."

 _A Karnstein through and through,_ Laura thinks bitterly, watching as Mattie downs the rest of her drink and places the glass on the bar.

"I took a little break from the chaos, snuck away from my sister's watchful eyes." She notices Laura's incredulous look, and nods. "Yes, dear Carmilla can be quite protective over those she deems in her care. She does a fantastic job of hiding it. Still, I was able to sneak away." Her smile turns a little leery. "And look what it gave me? A chance to speak with you."

Okay, it's time for Laura to leave. _Now._ "I really ought to be getting back to—"

"Nonsense, you can spare a moment."

Laura sighs. She knows an order when she hears one.

"You've been working here how long?" Mattie asks, brushing an invisible hair out of her face.

"Around a year." Most people have left the building by now. There'll be no one to come to her rescue.

Mattie slowly nods. "I see. And during that year, how has my sister treated you?"

Laura nearly chokes.

She laughs. "I'm only teasing, I won't make you answer that." Her eyes glitter dangerously from across the room. "However, might I ask what a girl with your ambition is doing in a job such as this?"

"I'm…I'm not sure what you mean," Laura says, confused by the change in topic. She knows on some level, she's being interrogated, but she doesn't know what for.

"What I'm asking is if this job is truly the only option for you. You don't seem like one to be into fashion." Her eyes trail down Laura's body, taking in the stripped colored shirt and worn out leggings.

Laura laughs meekly. "Well, no, but the Karnstein name looks good on any resume." She hesitates. "I was also promised a golden recommendation when I get my break in journalism."

"And what if I were to offer you a better job, with greater perks?"

"What?"

Before Mattie can explain, the door behind Laura opens, and Carmilla steps into her office. She doesn't look too surprised to see Mattie and Laura. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she says in that distinct tone that suggests she wouldn't care either way.

"Nothing that can't be continued on a later date," Mattie says cheerfully. She runs her hands down her skirt, and lifts herself away from the counter. "Well, that's enough out of me today. I'm going home to slip into a warm bath."

Carmilla smirks. "Not alone, I hope?"

Mattie throws her head back with a laugh, and moves forward to tap Carmilla on her head. "No, I'm afraid not all of us can indulge ourselves in your preferred pastimes." She pulls her in to kiss her on each cheek. "Call me if there are any troubles with the plans," she says as she walks away. "And Hollis, consider my offer."

 _I wasn't aware there was one,_ Laura thinks, watching Mattie saunter towards the elevators.

When she turns back around, Carmilla is seated at her desk, watching Laura. She turns away when their eyes meet. "You're free to go."

Laura doesn't need to be told twice. She books it out of the office, promising herself to never wind up alone with a Karnstein. _Ever._


End file.
